Tangled Up In Blue
by boredomsetsin13
Summary: She turned around to look at me as I was walkin' away. I heard her say over my shoulder, "We'll meet again someday on the avenue." Tangled up in blue. - Bob Dylan "Tangled Up In Blue"
1. That Was All I Could Really Ask For

Disclaimer: I do not own the "Outsiders" characters, S.E. Hinton does. Nor do I own the lyrics in the summary.

We were walking around the Ribbon on a Thursday night. It was nearly Labor Day weekend. School hadn't started yet. It was almost dark out, but there was none of the chill that typically accompanies it. Actually, it was kinda nice out.

Normally, I would've only felt really safe under the street lights, but Darrel Curtis was about a foot and a half away from me, so I felt okay. Well, that's a bit of an understatement: I felt absolute and unadulterated joy, bliss.

I loved walking with Darry, talking to him, listening. We could walk without saying a word for _years_and I wouldn't grow bored or tired. It was simple and easy to talk to Darry. You would sure think that after talking to him for as long as I've been able to talk at all, I wouldn't like talking to him or it wouldn't make me excited.

But it did. It hadn't always made me feel that way, - like before I liked boys - but now it sent butterflies straight to my stomach. And they weren't your average, ordinary, every day butterflies. They were big, energetic, really fluttery butterflies that wouldn't rest, or let me rest, until the middle of the night.

Darry was the biggest seventeen-year-old boy I knew. He could take anyone and anything, and he wouldn't lose; I was a hundred percent sure of that. Darry never, ever lost. When he played football he won. When he fought he won. When we wanted a girl but another boy wanted her too, he won. He always won. No matter what - he won.

He was just one of those people, I guess - one of those few people that never, ever lose. He was one of the lucky people and the good people and the motivated people and the handsome people.

He was one of the few people that fell into all four of those categories and remained sufferable. Darry was a real great guy. No girl deserved him. There was no girl on the planet that was good enough for him. I never let him in on that, though. He'd find a girl some day that floated his boat just fine, even if she didn't deserve him.

When we got to one of those street lights, he looked over at me for a second. I saw him out of the corners of my greenish eyes.

"I think you have the shiniest eyes, Leila," he said soberly, seriously.

I wasn't exactly sure that he had really said it, because, what with me being Leila Asher and all, sweet things like that weren't usually said to me. Part of me wondered if there was another girl near him with the name Leila. I was sure I had misunderstood what he had said.

There was no way and no reason Darry would have said something like that to me. He never had before. He had talked to me about girls who he thought had nice eyes. That was about as close as it got to what he just told me.

For what seemed like a while, I didn't say anything. It was quiet. In spite of myself, I was grinning toothily, - which wasn't the best thing to do since I sort of needed braces and my upper front teeth were a little big - and my head was ducked. My cheeks were turning a shade of ruby, I was sure - I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck and entering my cheeks.

It was quiet. I've never really been a fan of quiet. It always seemed really, really eerie. Maybe it came from working in a busy burger joint for a few years. There was a jukebox that almost never got to rest and chatter that seemed to fill the entire building. I associated a loud, near-constant hum with good smells and security. Though the odd feeling of security probably came from getting a paycheck twice a month.

I felt I had to say something to break the tangible quiet. So, I said the first thing that came to mind. "Uh, um, . . . th - thank you, th- th - thanks, Darry," I finally managed to mutter. And believe me, it took a lot to just say those couple of words.

Usually, I can't talk real good anyways, but with Darry springing that interesting bit of information on me all of a sudden, it seemed to make it doubly hard to talk and think straight.

Just as my flush had begun to fade, it creeped right back up at my stuttering. If I could somehow make my stuttering materialize, I think I'd want to kick it and hurt it. It's caused me an awful lot of blushing and embarrassment.

Sometimes, when I was either surprised, or nervous, or both, I tended to have some trouble getting my words out, so I ended up stuttering. I didn't try to do it, it's just what would happen.

He sighed, startling me out of my thoughts. I shuddered.

A small rock of dread landed in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want him to be mad at me. I hated it with a burning passion when he was mad at me. I'd do almost anything to make him not be mad at me anymore. Though, the reason he would be mad at me, frankly, escaped me entirely, but I was still hoping he wasn't angry with me.

I always hated it when he was mad at me. He was stubborn, so I had to apologize first, usually. It had always been like that, even when we were little, little kids.

"Leila, I'm just tryin' to tell you I like you," Darry said, frustrated. I froze. Darry took two more steps onward before he realized that my feet had planted themselves to that area of concrete, and he stepped back to be by my side.

I've loved Darry since I could walk, and here he was, telling me he had feelings for me. We've known each other for just about forever, because, one, our mothers were friends, and, two, we were nearly the same age. I never thought it would turn out quite like that. It wasn't supposed to. Not that I didn't like that it did, or anything. It's just, it wasn't supposed to happen like that.

Darry was supposed to meet a girl named Ginny, in their Science class. They would say a few words to each other, and then work up to conversations. Then, they date and fall in deep love with each other. Ginny and Darry would be married, and I would be sitting on Darry's side at the wedding, sobbing just a bit. They would have kids. They would love each other until they died.

And me? I was going to me a boy named Gary. He would have started to go grey at seventeen. We would meet at George's Best. He would come there often to see me, and he would eventually work up the nerve to ask me out on a date. We would grow to love each other. He would marry me. We would die together, in an auto-wreck when I was thirty and he was thirty-two.

I had known that for an awful long time. It had become accepted. I may not have liked it much, but it was accepted as what was going to happen.

It was strange, because with him telling me he liked me seemed to change, in an instant, how I looked at him, at the world. Everything he'd done to me flashed through my mind and I thought of all the little things he'd done sweetly. The years of our platonic companionship seemed to fade and blur, and it became just me and Darry: grown-ups and lovers.

At that moment, all the years of friendship meant very little. It was not that I didn't love the memories, but it seemed that all of it just sort of lead up to this, and _this_ was all that really mattered.

But I didn't exactly want to tell him that I felt the same way. Maybe he was just trying to tell me he still wanted to be friends, even though we'd been growing older and busier. I didn't want to embarrass myself; I do that enough on my own.

"Darry, . . . ," I began nervously. Why couldn't I say it? I was supposed to tell him that I liked him, too. Then he was supposed to grasp my long-fingered, sort of thick-knuckled hand and walk away with me by his side. That's how it played out in my mind, anyways.

But I just stood there, looking as dumb as a damned rock. I felt that my mouth hung open a little, so I snapped it shut. My mouth was dry. It must've been open for a while without me noticing.

I tried to start again. "D - Darry, . . . I like you a lot." My voice sounded so weak and pathetic. It wasn't supposed to, though. I cursed my occasional stuttering to the fiery pits of Hell and gritted my teeth.

I was looking at the ground so I couldn't tell what his face looked like.

It was silent. I bet if you compared the silence here to the silence in a graveyard, the quiet here would win. Silence never meant good things. It was cold, and uncomfortable, and seemingly impregnable. Quiet was the worst.

I pulled my navy cardigan closer to me out of comfort and habit.

"Well, . . . that's real good, Leila," he said. "Real good." I took that to mean that we were an item.

I loved him so simply and completely. It'd been that way for a long time, but with him telling me he liked me back, my love thumped harder and harder in my chest. It burned, and I loved the love, too.

It felt good. He was my first boy friend. I was never very popular at school, especially with the male population.

I wouldn't exactly say I was chubby, but I wasn't real skinny, either. I wasn't cute and petite. I stood at five feet, seven inches. My hair was frizzy and really thick. I lived in the same neighborhood as him, so that meant a lot, too. I got pimples sometimes. He never did. He had some of the prettiest skin. My nose was a little big, too. I was never the ideal woman. In fact, I was quite the opposite of ideal.

But Darry liked me. Darrel Shaynne Curtis Jr. liked me. That was all I could really ask for. That was all I wanted.

"I really do think that about your eyes, though, Leila. They're pretty. You're pretty," Darry said sweetly, softly, disagreeing completely with my thoughts.

I wasn't used to dating him and him complimenting me, so my kind of tan cheeks blushed an even deeper scarlet.

We were together often after that. It wasn't awkward. It was surprisingly easy. I loved it. I loved him. It was as simple as that.

"Leila, it's Winter. Why aren't your cheeks pale yet? You haven't been out runnin' around in this cold weather, have you, just to get some sun," Darry asked me, his eyes suspicious and accusing. He put his eyes on me. It was a little startling, actually.

I was a little tongue-tied for a second or two.

He could look nice, or sincere, or serious and severe. This time his eyes looked serious and severe. I figured I'd better not make a joke. Darry didn't look like he'd laugh if I joked and told him I'd been running around naked in the afternoon for the past few weeks to keep up my usual Summer-given tan.

"No, Darry, I haven't been, so quit lookin' at me like that. . . I stay sorta tan all year, Darry. Haven't you noticed before? My cheeks've never gotten real, real pale." I knew he hadn't realized. The only reason he was noticing now was because I was his, finally.

He had my hand in his and he had his class ring on a chain around my neck. He got me the chain for Christmas, and it already had the ring on it. It was his way of showing he had possession, but I didn't care. I didn't mind that he wanted something on me to mark that I was his. It made me smile that he wanted people to know it.

"Well, no, I haven't really." That made me half-smile. He doesn't usually admit defeat. Being wrong didn't suit him very well.

It didn't really bother me; he was noticing now, and that was what I wanted and all I could really ask for. I looked up at him and grinned for a moment. "What," he asked me, smiling.

"Oh, nothin', Darry. . . Well, you see, my grandmother - my mom's mom - was from Mexico and came here when she was a baby, and my mom's father was part Irish and part German. And my dad is English and German. So, I think I get the sorta tan from my grandma. Don't you think? That sounds about right, right," I asked, a bit self-consciously.

I didn't think he really wanted to hear my whole life-story, even though he'd been there for almost all of it.

My cheeks, still a little tan, blushed red quickly. Darry wasn't interested in where my Grandma Forner (her maiden name was Vela) came from.

I could've gone into much more detail about my dad. My dad was one of my best friends. He worked as a lawyer, so he wasn't the liveliest of people when he came home, but on the weekends he was really fun. He taught me how to put together puzzles. I loved him so much.

Sometimes he would read to me, when I was a lot younger. I would sit by his feet, and I always ended up playing with his shoelaces. Once I tied them together and forgot - I was always doing that; forgetting, I mean - and he tripped. If it had been Mom, I would've been in big, big trouble. But since it was my dad, he just laughed and tickled me until my eyes were watering.

My relationship with my mother was all right. We rarely fought, but we didn't have very deep conversations, either. I would tell her, vaguely, what happened at school and the funny hair of some woman I waited on at George's Best. That was about as deep as it went.

"Oh. I didn't know that, Leila. That's neat. . . Um, do ya' wanna go back to my house and watch some TV or something," Darry asked. I sighed softly. I was relieved. So he wasn't bored listening to me prattle about my family.

I nodded a bit too eagerly. It made some of my dark frizz obscure my face and my eye-sight.

It was a little chilly out and I pulled my cardigan around me a bit more. I was really starting to wish I hadn't rolled my skirt up any because the breeze was really cold. Darry stepped a little closer to me and put his arm lightly around my shoulders. I could've died right at that second, and been completely okay with it.  
I liked being at the Curtis'. I didn't go there very often because of a few of the boys that passed through there, but I liked being there when it was nearly empty.

For instance, a boy named Dan, or Danny, or something that started with a "D" - I never can remember names too good - would sometimes pass through there for a few minutes. There was one nick-named Two-Bit that thought he was the funniest thing to ever set foot on Earth. He really grated on my nerves. Darry's younger brothers were a bit of a pain in the rear, too, if you ask me.

I didn't like hanging around when all those boys were there. Well, or when any of the boys were there, actually.

I had never hung around those boys. I had never been one of the gang or just another one of the guys. I'm pretty sure Darry always knew the difference. And he was sure to always keep me separate from them.

Darry watched his mouth around me and watched what he talked about.

I was awful lucky that Darry wasn't a real hood like they were. He wouldn't get thrown in jail. He wouldn't get jumped because he was so big. Even if he was jumped, he could take the guys that were stupid enough to jump him. I wouldn't have to worry about him getting hurt.

The only times I worried was when he was in a rumble. I always hated when he was in one of those damn things. He could take anyone, but what if someone broke the rules and brought a piece of pipe or a bike chain? Darry never talked to me about people bringing things like that, but I always heard somehow.

It was kind of funny dating Darry. Not really "haha" funny, but it was just kind of weird. I liked it, but it felt real strange to kiss him and stuff.


	2. I Was Not One Of Those Blasted Creatures

We were never exactly passionate with each other. I think it was because we had known each other since we were in diapers. I'd seen him bawl his eyes out and he'd seen my dress fly up over my face. I was around when he broke his left arm when he was seven, and he was right fucking there when I'd skinned my shins, knees, elbows, palms, and chin all in the same damn fall.

I think we decided, though it was unspoken, that it'd be a little too awkward to grab one another and kiss and touch as if we hadn't seen each other in years.

I didn't want him to kiss me as if we were in one of those love-stories where the two in-love people hadn't seen each other for ten years and accidentally ran into each other and kissed so passionately and ferociously that the people in the audience had to look away. Anyhow, one person of the couple usually ends up moving far away again, or dying.

We were innocent together. We were like little kids, you could say - afraid to touch very often and always turning red and looking away when we did.

I really did like it at the Curtis'. It was comfy, and warm, and it seemed sort of loving, I guess. Plus, Darry was there.

His folks were real nice, and I could stand his little brothers in small doses.

Once, I went over there real early when I was thirteen or so, and Mrs. Curtis was making waffles and invited me to breakfast. Honestly, I felt sort of bad, because I had just kind of waltzed in. I hoped she didn't think I came over there with the intent of inviting myself to hang around and eat their food. It made me worry a little.

At first, I only took one waffle, but I ended up consuming all of three. I was real hungry that morning, though. I usually only eat two. . .

I didn't take any syrup when it was offered. I only liked butter on my waffles or pancakes. Darry and his two brothers looked at me like I was an escapee from crazy house.

You know, I think if I could have one thing to eat for breakfast for the rest of my life, it'd be waffles. I've always loved waffles.

Their house was a little smaller than mine, but I preferred to be there than at my own house. It was nice over there, though. But my house was nicer. I think it was because either Dad made a little more money than Mr. Curtis or the Curtis' had a little less money to go around because they had three kids and my parents only had one. I always wanted to have a big family when I got old enough.

I always thought 'Leila Curtis' had a sort of ring to it. I've loved him for a real long time, you know. So, I've had an awfully long time to think about it.

He really cared a lot about me. Sometimes, Darry'd do stuff with me that he didn't really wanna do or that he didn't get his kicks outa doing. He was so sweet to me. I couldn't have asked for a better boy. I was the luckiest damn girl in all of Tulsa, Oklahoma.

"Um, D - Darry, do you wanna go see a movie tonight," I asked nervously, apprehensively. I had always been a little shy. Even when we were young, I was sort of shy around him, though we had always been good friends. And becoming his girl friend didn't help me overcome that timidness.

I still wasn't quite used to being his girl friend, yet. It felt like sometime soon he was going to tell me that it all was just a big, funny joke and that that's what friends do - they joke around with each other. I thought he was going to pull the rug out from under me any minute. I could never get a great guy like Darrel Curtis, and I was still baffled that, somehow, I did.

It made my stomach ache just thinking about it. I pursed my lips slightly as I stared towards my dark loafers. Pursing my lips always seemed to get rid of any nauseous feelings. My slightly-crooked fingers inched closer to the hem of my blue, patterned skirt, and I let it slip in and out of my fingers. That was a sort of nervous habit. If I was wearing capri pants that day or real, short hot pants I would've played with their hem, too.

My mom always got on to me when she saw me doing it, though. Apparently, good ladies don't play with the hems.

"No," he said simply, very near coldly. I expected a little explanation or something, but none came after a few lifetime-long, silent moments. I was embarrassed. I felt that shaky, sick feeling you get when something humiliates you. Darry just flat-out rejected me. That was a sure call for humiliation if I've ever known one.

Maybe I had misunderstood everything from the few months before. Maybe this was just a friendly sit-on-the-porch-and-talk. What if there was nothing romantic about it? What if the reason he hadn't kissed me yet was that he hadn't really told me he liked me before? The theory about it all being a joke crept into my thoughts, and I tried to swat it away.

"No, . . . no, Leila, . . . it's just I don't like the movies much," he said. Darry tried to smile, but it came off as looking pinched and unpleasant. Nearly all of his smiles were beautiful, but this one was not. It fell far, far short of handsome. It made his young face look lined, and stressed, and aged.

I guess he saw my face and felt the need to correct himself. It didn't help me much. My cheeks were still burning, nonetheless. The color was still in my neck, and my pulse was racing. I suppose Darry felt bad, though. Part of me was kind of hoping he did.

"Uh, Leila, do ya' wanna go catch a movie?" He sounded a little frustrated, but like he was trying to hide it. I looked at him and smiled for a moment. I turned my head slightly. His hand seemed to tighten a little, I saw. But, before I could look away completely, he kissed me.

Darry kissed me full on my lips.

It startled me and I did nothing for a second. I had never been kissed before, to be perfectly honest. Darry pulled away from me what seemed like a year later. I smiled a toothy grin again. Color began to creep up my neck and flood my cheeks.

"Remember? I thought you didn't like movies," I said coyly, or at least what I tried to pass off as coy. Darry looked at me and frowned, causing a furrow in his brow to jump up. That was another thing that made him look older than his young age. He chuckled.

"Yeah, well, I lied, I guess. You see what you've gone and turned me into, Leila? You've went and made me a liar. Now, you've had almost eighteen years to do it, but you waited 'til now," Darry teased. He stood up and ducked his head inside. "Dad?! I'm takin' Leila to the movies!" I heard a yell back of approval.

I know he didn't enjoy the movie. He's never liked movies for some reason.

"I'm sorry you didn't have a good time, Darry. But thanks for takin' me. I had a real nice time," I told him when he stood with me at my front door. I kissed him and it felt really nice. It was warm and soft. I wanted to do it again, but I restrained myself.

"Well, you're wrong. I, uh, had a good time, Leila. I like bein' with you. It's good to see you happy and stuff. I like seein' ya' smile. You're smile's pretty. Anyone ever tell you that," Darry asked. I thought that over vaguely. The answer was, of course, no. Actually, it was pretty much opposite of that.

"Um, no. The dentist told me that if I wanted a pretty smile, I'd have to get braces. Dad didn't think I needed them, so I never got them. I think he just didn't want to pay for them, though. . . " I was always kind of self-conscious about that - of my teeth, I mean. Sure, they were white, but that was about all that could be bragged on about them. They could've been worse, though. No use belly-aching over it.

Darry sighed. I was kind of afraid of what he would say.

No one had ever liked me like he did, and I didn't want that bubble to burst. I had never loved anyone like him before, and I didn't want to love anyone else like that again. I was in love for the first time. I knew then that it would be the only time. I was never, ever, ever going to love someone else. I plum didn't want to.

"Well, your dentist's crazy. You have the prettiest smile." I thought my stomach was going to drop out and land on my nice shoes. I played with my dark, flower-patterned skirt a little bit. I had it rolled up a tiny bit. I'd have to remember to roll it back down before I went home. It's not like it was up to my hips or anything; it was only an inch above my knee. All the girls did that outside of school. I wasn't the only floozy around.

I loved being with Darry. If I could, I would be with him always. I loved how he held my hand and hugged me. Even the way he kissed me was nice.

We went out a lot. It was never anything fancy though. I liked that. Our times out became fewer and fewer once he started working, but that was fine. If we didn't go out anywhere we'd either sit on his porch or swing on my porch swing.

Usually, the going out was just for a walk. And sometimes we would go get a hamburger and go see a movie. Even though he didn't like movies, he'd still watch one with me. I loved being with Darry more than anything else.

Darry was driving me home after a date one night. He had taken me out for a walk and some pizza.

That was something nice about being with Darry - I didn't have to worry about eating more than him. He could eat almost an entire pizza on his own, especially if he was in the right mood. I didn't have to constantly remind myself of the shame I would feel if I ate more than the boy I was with.

Girls were supposed to be small, dainty creatures with little to no appetite. I was not one of those blasted creatures. I did not have the tiniest waist and I did, in fact, have an appetite.

My mother always reminded me that I was a beautiful girl, but weren't all mothers supposed to say that, anyways? Darry said that I was the prettiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on, though. I loved to hear him say that, even though I thought he was crazy for it.

He was driving sort of slowly and taking the long way.

"Darry, I - I had a real nice time tonight, really. Thanks," I said, casting my eyes downward. That's what girls always did in the movies and the boys in those movies seemed to like those girls pretty good.

"No, no. Thanks, Leila. I really li - ," Darry said, but was interrupted. He came to a stop quickly.

"Leila! Darrel, if you'd kindly let Leila out. Thank you." I froze. Only my mother would ever do a thing like that. The family car had pulled up beside Darry's pick-up.


	3. My Mom Was Probably Saint Like

"Leila, your date has went on long enough. Time to come home," she said. I still couldn't move. I was mortified. Surprisingly, for the first time that night, I flushed. It was horrible. I thought I was about to get sick all over the dash of Darry's truck. My legs were so wobbly, jelly. I was afraid I'd fall, but then I reminded myself that I couldn't be more embarrassed, anyways. It didn't matter if I scraped my knee.

It wasn't my curfew yet. "Hello, Darrel," my mom said so stiffly I thought starch would start to pour out of her mouth. At that moment, very briefly, I hated the woman.

"Hi, Mrs. Asher," Darry said politely with a smile. He really could look awful handsome. All my mother did was nod her head curtly in his direction, not meeting his gaze.

I didn't dare kiss him, not even on the cheek. My lips didn't even graze his cheek when Mom wasn't looking our way. I was too afraid that she'd see somehow, and I would be in trouble. My mom was probably saint-like when she was my age. She probably never kissed a boy before she married Dad, and I'd bet that she never parked, nor held hands.

On the way home we fought. We had been fighting more and more lately. I would always get louder and louder. My mother would always stay so indifferent-sounding, it was blindingly infuriating. Her voice constantly stayed at that same reasonably calm voice. I hated it. I hated it. I hated it!

"Well, what the hell is there to do at home?! It's not even my curfew yet, mom! I told you where I was going to be, and who I'd be with, and what time I would be home." My mom didn't take her eyes from the road. She did not incline her head one bit.

"Leila, do not swear. I don't like to hear that from you. I never speak like that, and certainly not when I was your age. . . There are always those puzzles you used to love. That's what you can do when we get home. Puzzles. And Darrel will not be there to distract you. He won't be around you for a week to distract you, Leila. Do you hear me? One week. You won't be seeing Darrel," she said quietly.

That brief, hot hate boiled up for a heartbeat, and it left as quickly as it had came.

"Darry, I'm sorry," I said when I saw him sitting at the counter at George's Best the next day. I was so embarrassed.

At least Mom didn't know he would come by there sometimes.

"It's okay, Leiley. . . Why didn't you, uh, . . . kiss me, though?" I swear, my heart stopped beating for a second. I couldn't believe he would ask me that. I wasn't upset with him for asking it, but it was just strange to hear him talking about us kissing. It made me a little uncomfortable.

"My mom wouldn't have liked it. She was already mad. That woulda just set her off more, Darry," I replied quietly. I felt the color rise in my cheeks.

"Even if it was just on the cheek, I still would've like it, Leila," he said, looking up through his eyelashes.

I smiled and giggled nervously. I liked kissing Darry, and, apparently, he liked kissing me, too.

"I would've liked to, Darry."

A few weeks later when Mom was out of town visiting Aunt Belva and Dad was at work and had said he would have to work late, Darry spent almost the whole day at my house.

"How about you cook dinner for us, Leila," Darry asked. He had a warm smile on his face, and I was silent for a moment. Once I got my head back, I laughed my loud, dry laugh.

"No, Darry. You know I can't cook to save my life," I said lightly. He was looking at me funny. His mother was a great cook. I loved eating at their house. "Do you remember when we were kids, and how I could barely even make mud-pies? They always ended up soupy."

He laughed, and it was nice to listen to.

Darry left a whole eight minutes before my Dad got home. It was a too-close call. But it would have been better to be my dad that saw that Darry was over, than Mom.

I was on my break at George's Best. Darry was there, again. I was sitting with him and it was quiet. I was okay with that. My thumbs were twirling around each other, and Darry was searching my face. Whenever I'd occasionally look up, he'd smile at me so warmly I thought I'd definitely stop breathing. His smile was loving.

We never actually told each other that we loved each other, but we definitely did. Actually, I almost told him a few times, but I never got up the nerve. I think he almost told me a few times, too.

"Leila, . . . why do you stay here? You've worked here for a few years now. It doesn't pay real well. So, why do ya' keep workin' here," Darry asked, out of the clear blue sky. It sort of startled me. I couldn't think of a response. I'd never had to answer a question like that before. Somehow, it had just never came up.

A grin pulled at the corners of my mouth and I let myself smile. There was a small problem nagging at the back of my mind.

Part of the reason I still worked there was because it payed _enough_, - not much, but enough - and it helped out a lot at home.

I was never one to tell my sob-story to the world and I wasn't aiming to make Darry feel sorry for me. I didn't want to complain.

A small sigh escaped my lips and I said grimly, detached, "I'm not the smartest person, Darry, and I know it. And . . . I like workin' here. Anyways, I don't have the money to go to college. Even if I did, I don't have the brains, Darry. I know it. I'm not gonna kid myself. I'm at least smart enough to know to not do that."

The way Darry looked at that moment, it was startling. I didn't know why he was looking at me that way. He never had before. In that utterly brief moment, his eyes that were always warm, light blue when they looked at me, were icey and cold and unloving.

Not having enough money was something Darry could definitely understand, though. No matter what he thought I should do, he could understand usually why I didn't do it.

I liked change, - I wasn't a clinger to the past, and I was a bit oblivious to change, anyways - but George's Best went hand-in-hand with being young and in-love and having Darry and everything being easy. I usually moved on from change, but I was not willing to move on from that.

"But you are smart, Leiley," he said quietly. I smiled at his use of my childhood nickname. I was sort of surprised that he even remembered it.

I smiled, again, at him warmly and said, "No, Darry. Thanks, but I'm really not. I'm neither book-smart nor street-smart. I'm fine with that. I like workin' here, anyways, Darry. I think you have more of a problem with it than I do." I stood up, leaned down, and kissed the tip of his nose lightly.

I walked away; my break was over. I had to get back to work.

Darry wanted the best for me. He wanted me to have a good life. He thought I could do whatever I wanted to. I always told him he was wrong, though, my choices were limited.

Once, Darry said to me, "I just want our lives together to be easy. When we're older and married, I want it to be easy on you." I thought I was about to die from the butterflies in my stomach that began fluttering madly at those words.

I liked being at their house when it was just me and Darry. We didn't bum around my house all that much. It was sort of stiff there. I don't know why. It felt like an old woman's house, though.

The TV was on, but neither of us were paying it much mind. I was playing with Darry's rough fingers, and he was twirling a piece of my hair between the fingers on his free hand.

I had finished _Gone With the Wind_ a week or so earlier. I was pretty damn proud of myself, let me tell you. I loved it, but, man, it was just plain huge. I've never read such a big book in all my life. Of course, I never usually read voluntarily.

"You know, Darry, what with me readin' that book, I don't think I'll ever have to read another book my whole entire life! It's so big, I think I've filled my quota already, don't ya' think," I asked. I was looking up at him with a grin playing at my lips.

The Curtis's house was empty. Darry's mom was at a friend's house. His father was working. And his two younger brothers were out and about doing God only knows what. I really didn't give a hang about what any of them were doing. I was just glad we had the house to ourselves. It was nice and quiet.

Darry sighed a real big sigh and kissed the top of my hair gingerly. He said, "Yeah, . . . yeah, I suppose so, Leila." He kissed my head again.

He sounded kind of upset with me. I always got real quiet when he sounded like that.

"You could do so much more, Leila, if you really wanted to," I heard him say when he thought I was asleep.

I wasn't though. I was close, but I was still aware. My brain didn't seem capable of coming up with a response. So, I let the moot subject be. There was no use in arguing with him.

There never was any use of arguing with Darry, even when we were kids.

I walked out from the back part of George's Best and stopped at a table. He didn't want to order anything and I knew it. He just wanted to keep an eye on me and needed something to do since it was no longer football season.

He went to George's Best all the time. And it was all because of me. He would've been coming there a few years earlier when I first started - I started waiting tables at George's when I was fifteen - if we had started dating then.

I know exactly - give me a calender of that year and I can tell you - how long I'll work there for. I'll work there until I die or retire - whichever comes first. I'm kind of hoping for the latter.

"Heya, Darry," I said. I planted a kiss on his lips and he smiled. His eyes were looking me up and down and I felt a little self-conscious. I knew he loved me and he thought the world of little ol' me, but I still wondered if he hoped I was prettier or looked more like the girls on the cheer-leading squad. Those girls were some of the prettiest in the whole damn school.

"You look really cute in your uniform, Leila," he said. My cheeks blushed pink. I laughed and shook my head. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen." I laughed again.

"Darry, you must be walking around school with your eyes closed," I said brightly. I knew he was just saying sweet things because he was my boy friend and that's just what boy friends typically do. He shook his head. "No," Darry said quietly. "No. . . "

He left about an hour later. Darry had to go to work.

Later on, when my shift at work was finally over, I didn't have a ride home. I called Darry and he was there within eight minutes.

He was driving me home from work, and the radio was on. "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" came on and I tried to muffle a squeal. I liked Bob Dylan. I was humming along with the song, singing the few lines I actually knew.

The windows of Darry's pick-up were rolled down and my impossible hair was blowing in front of my features. I was still in my work uniform. The memory of Darry calling me cute especially when I wore my uniform made me smile widely.

"Then He Kissed Me" came on and, though I had no idea who sang it, I said, "I love this song, Darry," loudly, over the music. I was bopping my head to the song and I couldn't stop myself from singing under my breath.

I began to notice that Darry seemed to be driving aimlessly. I said nothing, though.

Three or four more songs played, then an Elvis tune. I sang along, loudly, to "Are You Lonesome Tonight?", and I couldn't stop myself from grinning.

Now, I could never sing very well, but I couldn't make my mouth stop. I knew it normally would've gotten on Darry's nerves, but, I think since it was me, he kept his mouth shut.

"You sure seem to be havin' a good time, Leiley," Darry said, turning his head to the side briefly. I wished he'd look at me a little more. He had such a handsome face. He didn't tell me to stop singing; I knew he wouldn't. "I really love to see you happy," he said, under his breath.

Towards the end of the third Elvis song in a row, I asked, "Why is it taking so long for you to get me home? My mother will be mad if it takes much longer, Darry." I was hoping he didn't think I was mad.

I loved spending time with Darry, - I did love him more than he really knew - but I didn't exactly feel like getting grounded.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Leila," he said, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. I felt a small pit grow in my stomach.

But, then again, if I wanted to spend more time with him now, then I wouldn't be able to spend more time with him later. Still, it was hard to leave him. I always missed him when he wasn't around him.


	4. Not Him, My Mother

Darry sped up. He got me to my house in three minutes.

"Goodbye, Darry. Thanks for givin' me a ride. I had a fun time," I said. I had said it like it was a date and as if it was our first date, at that.

"No problem. I liked it. I'm real, real sorry if I made you get in trouble. If ya are in trouble, Leila, tell your mom it's my fault you're late . . . Uh, 'bye, Leila," Darry said with a sad sort of finality in his nice voice.

That made the pit in my stomach grow larger.

Darry really, really loved me. And I honest to all goodness loved him back.

And, laying in bed one night when I couldn't find sleep, I realized how much I loved him. I wanted to love him with everything I had. So, I figured I'd better before we got too old for people to say that we just plain didn't know better.

We had just gone for a long walk, so Darry didn't have his pick-up. He was dropping me off at my house, just like he had done countless times before.

But this time would be different. Usually, he'd kiss me goodnight, and walk or drive off. But not this night.

He walked me to my front door. We stopped and spoke sporadically for the next few minutes. I was so nervous; my knees had to be knocking together. I felt my back break out into a clammy sweat and my palms soon followed suit.

"Uh, Darry, . . . do ya wanna come in for a few minutes?" I couldn't look him in the eye. It was too embarrassing, much, much too embarrassing. I had been thinking about inviting him in for a while. It took me so much nerve to ask him that.

I expected a flat-out "No." I was bracing myself for a humiliating rejection.

But, much to my utter amazement, he smiled shyly and nodded his head. Maybe he was nervous, too.

As I took a step inside, I turned around and pressed my forefinger to my slightly chapped lips. "Sh!" By then, I was wishing I had been more caring and had put some kind of lip-something on.

He nodded and smiled again. All I could hope for was that he was as scared as me.

"Darry, do ya want something to eat," I asked him as we crossed through the unlit kitchen. He nodded and vaguely grabbed the bag of bread sitting on the counter nearby.

Somehow, we managed to hit every single squeaky floorboard in my house on the way to my bedroom. I could have danced in relief at the memory of cleaning my room and putting freshly-laundered sheets on my bed that morning.

I saw Darry, out of the corner of my eye, put the bag with the bread in it on my cluttered dresser.

We crossed my bedroom. Just before I sat on my bed, I froze. My head whipped around, causing my dark frizz to obscure my green-gold eyes for a moment, and I checked that the door was both shut and locked. I sighed. Everything was shut up just fine, just perfect.

I took a deep breath, and bit my lip. I sat down on my twin-sized bed. My eyes were cast down; I still couldn't look at Darry. It was still all too embarrassing.

He pulled my chin up and kissed me. I pulled back my two quilts and sheet with a shaking, sweaty hand. Darry sort of lay me down after a while. Slowly, our shoes clattered noisily to the floor. Then, my cardigan was unbuttoned and was cast down to the floor, joining our shoes.

The only thing that was on my mind was that the bed was quiet. I was laying there, praying to the Lord that my small bed was quiet.

"Uh, I'd better take off, Leiley," Darry murmured when the first bit of sunlight was stretching across my wall, lighting up his face. I understood and I was relieved. If my parents found out that Darry was in their house, we'd both be stone dead.

The Curtises were visiting friends of theirs in Dallas. They trusted Darry to watch his younger brothers until they came back at noon the next day. Darry figured that since the middle brother was fifteen and the youngest was thirteen, then they could handle themselves for a few hours alone.

He kissed me lightly on my forehead and then lightly on the corner of my mouth.

"I'll see you later on today?" I nodded my head and grinned toothily. I had to lower my eyes, I was still embarrassed. He smiled warmly at me again, and crawled out my open window. It was a low drop to the ground. He turned around and grinned at me again and walked away, to his home.

I hoped for his sake that his parents hadn't decided to come home early and that his youngest brother wouldn't tell on him.

Darry always seemed like he cared a lot. I really loved him. I'd love that boy until . . . Well, I'd always love him. I'd love him until my soul burnt out.

Darry always looked strong - never vulnerable; not even when he said that he liked me, not even when he tried to cop a feel and I jumped back, startled. He never, ever looked like something could hurt him.

"Leila, honey, . . . ," my mom said. I looked up. She had startled me. I was trying to help her with her hopeless garden. "Leila, Darrel's parents died last night. It was a car-accident." I jumped up.

"Mom! Is Darry okay?! He wasn't with them, right?!" I had forgotten. Two people who loved each other, who had three children together, had died. It slipped my mind completely that one of them had been my mom's best friend since grammar school.

The only thing I was worried about was if my boy friend was hurt or not. His two young brothers didn't even cross my mind.

"Yes, he's fine, he wasn't with them." Her eyes seemed to fade a little and they got a very far-off look to them. " . . . But they aren't." It seemed to knock the wind out of me.

Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had just been over the week before, very much alive and happy.

I sat down in the shade and started playing with the hem of my kelly-green pedal pushers. I'd never understood why they used a girl's name to describe the shade of green.

The sun didn't quite reach under the tree, but I was sweaty, all of a sudden. The navy sweater I had on over my white button-up blouse was making me a little warm and fidgety. I started picking and pulling at the sweater.

The toes of my Keds were making designs in the dirt.

My mother told me his parents died - not him, my mother.

I made a circle but wiped it out, and made a heart.

_Not him, my mother._

Then I grabbed a stick and put Darry's initials and my initials in the heart.

_He didn't tell me - Mom did._

Sure, a little hokey, but being so far in love that there's no hope for you can really do that to a person.

_My mother told me his parents died - not him, but my mother._

I loved him so much it could be enough for the both of us.

I never saw Darry look helpless, hopeless, lost. Never ever. Not before his parents died, anyways.

Hell, even when we were kids, Darry never asked for help, needed it, or wanted it.

It was sure funny to see a four-year-old trying to tie his own shoelace and batting everyone else's hands away if they tried to help him. If you want to see something funny, find a four-year-old boy and ask him to tie his own shoes . . .

"Mom," I asked later on, after I had wiped the dirt off the seat of my pants and came inside, "when's the funeral?" Her head whipped around so fast, I thought I saw it make a complete circle.


	5. We Made Our Way Home

"It doesn't matter, 'cause you aren't goin', Missy. You're too young," she said. She said it like I'd asked her if I could move in with Darry.

Hot tears of anger were held in wait, reading to roll at a moment's notice. I held them back, though.

"Mom, why?" I really couldn't understand what her reasoning could be.

"I said, you're just too damn young! Nineteen is too young to be goin' to a funeral!" Nineteen. In what world is nineteen too young to go to a funeral?

But I guess I was kind of relieved. If Darry broke down . . . I just don't think I'd want to see Darry cry. Darry is supposed to always be strong, and secure. A two-hour ordeal would not change that picture in my mind, I wouldn't let it.

A small, quiet voice in my head told me I was being immature, selfish. If I loved Darry, then I should always be there for him. He'd do the same for me.

I don't think I've ever felt so bad in my whole life.

I never did get around to apologizing for that. Partially, I didn't want to bring up the funeral. Another reason was that I didn't want to remind him that his parents had died. Even though it'd be pretty hard to forget something like that, there's no need to have to think about it unnecessarily. Also, I didn't want to remind him that I wasn't there for him.

Mom was fine with everything for about nine months.

"Mom, . . . I think I love Darry," I said softly, but excitedly. I thought she'd be happy that her daughter fell in love with her mother's best friend's son. "Really! H-He . . . We're gonna get married someday! Probably when, um, . . . Sodapop and, uh, . . . the youngest one move out! I'm gonna marry Darry, Momma!" My cheeks were flushed - I could feel it.

"You will not marry Darrel Curtis, Leila Marie! You won't!" My mother was yelling at me. It seemed to come out of the clear blue sky. It shocked me like a bolt of blasted lightning!

"Mom, why?" Her reason had better be the best excuse I've ever heard. I was reminded horribly of when she told me that Darry's parents died, and that I couldn't attend the funeral.

I really looked at her for a second. I really didn't look like her.

When I was a real little kid people used to always say that we had the same eyes or the same hair. But we didn't. My green-gold eyes looked nothing like her olive ones. Mom was thin. It was a soft sort of thin, too, so it was real pretty. I was never exactly thin. And my frizzy, dark hair looked nothing like her soft, wavy, dishwater-colored hair. Anyways, she always kept her hair short, but ever since I could, I've kept mine down to my belly-button. Only once did I cut it short, and that was just to right below my shoulders. I did that a few months before he asked me to be his girl friend.

I never understood where people got the notion that we looked so much alike.

Once, we were in a grocery store when I was thirteen and the cashier said, "You sure look like your mama." Mom smiled and giggled nicely and I tried to laugh a little, but it sounded funny so I stopped.

"You aren't! He has two kids, Leila Asher! Two kids! You're just ten months into being nineteen! You can't be a mother, yet! Leila, you will not marry Darrel. Now, . . . Now, you march your little butt right over to the Curtis' and break up with that boy. If I find out you disobeyed me . . . Well, you'd just better not," she threatened.

My breath caught in my throat. For the first time in my whole life, I wished she wasn't my mother. How someone like Mrs. Curtis could ever befriend someone like my mother, I'll never know. They were nothing alike.

Something about Mrs. Curtis shouted "soft", but my mother was anything but that. Especially since I had been getting serious with Darry. Before, she had never had a problem with him. He had almost always been around me, almost my whole life, and she liked him just fine then.

"Mom, you know they're his brothers! You know that! They'll move out! Darry's takin' care of them because if he doesn't, they'll be sent away! They're his brothers! He has no kids, Mom!" I was confused. I could tell she was grasping at any reason for me not to be married to Darry. How could she say they were his kids? My mom had been in the hospital when her best friend had each of her three sons.

"No. Leila, you won't marry that boy. You'll break up with him today, and that's just the way things are. That's the way it's gonna be, Missy." My shoulders slumped. There really was no hope. I was going to have to break it off with Darry. And it was all my mother's fault. What if he found another girl before I moved out? What if he stopped loving me?

"You know you're not in love with him, you're too young for that," my mother said in a low, quiet voice over her shoulder as I was walking away. She really didn't know anything. For a moment, I tried to picture my mom falling in love with Dad. How did Mom ever land someone nice like Dad?

"Okay, mom," I said in defeat. There was no more point in arguing. I was just stalling, really. All I was trying to do was to put off going to Darry's house.

I was trying to deal with the anger building up inside me. I seemed to deal with anger well; I always kept a fairly cool head.

I walked to the Curtis'. I was hoping Darry was home. I didn't want to wait around for him to get there. I opened the gate, walked up the cement pathway, went up the steps and knocked on the door. Even though they never locked the door, I always knocked. It felt weird just walking right on in, uninvited.

Sodapop's face, unusually sad, answered. I was really confused as to why he looked so upset. He always looked so happy. But how could there be anymore happiness? It was simple: there couldn't be.

"Sodapop, is Darry home? Can you go get him for me, please?" He nodded and opened the screen door.

"Hey, Leila. Did you hear what happened to Ponyboy and Johnny? Th- ," he began. I interrupted him. I had to do this before I lost my little nerve.

"Sodapop, get Darry for me." He must've figured out I was serious and wasn't interested in what stupid thing happened to the youngest Curtis and his hood friend. He looked startled and walked away. I waited.

Less than a minute later Darry appeared in the doorway. He looked happy to see me. Darry kissed me and I nearly broke-down and honest to God cried.

"Darry, I love you. We have to break up. I love you, though," I said softly. I ducked my eyes. I never deserved him in the first place. I wasn't all that pretty. I wasn't all that thin. I wasn't all that interesting.

But Darry loved me. I never told Darry that I loved him before. We knew we loved each other, but we never said it to each other before. It felt weird to say, but I liked saying it.

I hoped he knew it wasn't my choice. I hoped he guessed it was my mother's.

He didn't look mad or anything. I was slightly relieved, but part of me felt he should be mad at me. But my Darry wasn't. He didn't shout; he didn't try to shake some sense into me. He just looked at me for one long, long moment, and said "Okay" softly.

Darry closed the door on me.

I walked back down the steps. I had to try to hold myself together. I opened the gate in the chain-link fence and made my way home. . . .

* * *

"Aw, come on, Darry! Gimme it back!" We had been bickering for a few minutes; fighting, actually. I was working on a puzzle for the last ten minutes and he had been sitting next to me the whole time. I guess he got bored.

I jumped up and chased after him. He had my puzzle piece! I love putting together puzzles. I put them together a lot. Even the big ones and the ones with lots of people or animals or things in them.

I was putting together one that a woods on it with little animals in places.

I chased after Darry to get it back. There were only a few more pieces to go, and I wanted to finish it. That always bothered me - not finishing puzzles once I started them, I mean.

I could tell he wasn't running as fast as he could've. He finally stopped and I caught up with him. He was holding it far above my head. Darry wouldn't give it back! He was the tallest six-year-old I know, and I'm about the shortest. "Darry," I whined.

"Come on! Jump, Leiley! Jump," he said. I was jumping up and down. My thick, frizzy hair was flopping around and getting in my face. He was chuckling a little. I stopped jumping.

My lips started to tremble and my eyes teared up. His face changed. I guess he felt bad, because he gave me my puzzle piece back.

I stuck my tongue out at him and ran off. He chased after me. Darry was coming up close, and I felt his fingers touch my shoulder. I went flying forward and bit the dust. I sat on my bottom and I looked at my knee. There was a fresh scrape.

Darry grabbed my arms and pulled me up easily.

"I'm sorry, Leiley," he said softly. He kissed my forehead quickly like his father did to him when he got a scrape. We made our way home. . . .


End file.
